


Broken Hearts

by Extraho



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Abortion, Heartbreak, M/M, Mpreg, Regret, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extraho/pseuds/Extraho
Summary: Credence did not survive, and they found Graves quickly as Grindlewald freely told them where he was. They found their Director injured and unconscious. And pregnant. Even as Grindlewald himself insisted the child was not his, and Healer Pomfrey fought them every step of the way MACUSA could not risk a child of his being heir to the seat of power to Magical America.As Graves regains consciousness, it is up to his childhood friend, President Piquery, to tell him that she ordered the execution of his lover and his unborn child and heir.





	Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry.

Percival Graves woke to a steady beeping sound. Bleary eyes opened to see white walls and blinding sunlight flooding the room. His sense of smell was the first to come back. The scent of herbs and potions, but somehow still muted and neutral. His hearing focused on the beeping, recognising it somewhere in the back of his mind. The quiet rush of life that was slightly farther away than he could stretch his senses at the moment. 

Then came the pain. 

It hit him like a bludger. Strain radiated from his temples, down his neck and tying his back in knots. The muscles in his legs burned from atrophy. 

He hadn’t felt pain like this since the war, and it was paralysing. 

Graves gathered his thoughts enough to realise he was in the hospital. A magical hospital. He was free. They’d found him. Or had he been let go? Grindlewald has said that when the time came, he would let him go if it was necessary for their survival. Not even Grindlewald, in his mad cruelty, would risk killing a deeply wanted magical child. It couldn’t have been that long. 

Every pump of his heart felt like a cramp punching his chest. Every painful beat beneath his ribs made his head throb Credence, Credence, Credence. Was Credence safe? He managed to lift his head marginally, but exhaustion made him sink back into the thin pillow. 

His stomach felt like he was being stabbed with long no-maj needles. Panic seized him. 

People rushed into the room and rapidly muttered soothing incantations to calm him. 

“B-by -” he choked, throat raw and his voice ruined from dehydration and disuse. 

“Everything is fine,” the Healer soothed, “You’re safe. The Aurors found you. Your abductor is in prison. You’re safe,” she repeated. “You’re in the hospital, you’re safe.” 

“Cre- ba-” Graves tried again, his mind foggy and too traumatized for the incantations to be effective enough. 

The Healer got a pained look on her face, not understanding what he was saying. Doing the best she could, she sprayed a Dreamless Draught over his face. As Graves inhaled the aerosolized potion, the world faded from him, his muscles unclenched and he sank down on the hospital bed. 

*

When Graves woke again, his body was numb. Tina hurried to his side and gave him an ice-chip to suck on. The moisture soothed his throat enough so that he could take a sip from an actual glass of water. “Director,” she spoke in a low, but insistent voice. “How are you?” She blushed, feeling silly for asking such a question given the circumstances. 

“Numb,” he croaked. Tina got a pained look on her face as Graves’ hand settled on his stomach. Uncertainty and fear flooded him in zings of adrenaline as he felt his stomach flatter than he expected it to be. The expression on his face broke Tina’s heart. “What… how long? Where is…” he coughed violently. Tina held on to him, water ready to soothe the hurt when he could breathe again. 

“Director,” she started, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been given orders -”

“I mentored you because you-” he inhaled shakily, coughing harshly. “- knew when to throw the rulebook to the dragons and do the right thing-”

Tina couldn’t hold back her tears at Graves’ words. “It wasn’t you,” she sobbed in both relief and pain. Relief, because her mentor hadn’t cast her aside for her error in judgment when she attacked Mary Lou, but in utter pain, because that had been four months earlier. At least nearly four months had Grindlewald kept him prisoner, and no one had known. She pulled herself together, “I’m so sorry, but the orders are from Piquery herself. I’ll floo her so that you can ask everything you need to.”

“Credence-” Graves coughed. Tina paled. “Credence Barebone,” he repeated. “New Salem church, or -” he wheezed for breath, “-or at home. Please -”

“You knew Credence?” Tina interrupted him, forgetting her orders. 

Graves paused and felt his stomach sink at her use of the past tense. “Tina-” his voice was small. “Please -” he pleaded. “Did he… hurt him?” 

“Credence fought him,” Tina whispered, tears slipping down her face, “he fought when no one else managed.” 

Graves couldn’t breathe. A burning pain spread in his chest despite the numbing spells and potions. “No-” he sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Tina croaked. “I tried I… I’m sorry I… I need to alert the President,” he turned on her heel and ran from the room, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t understand the brokenness she’d seen in her superior, but his pain was overwhelming. Her sister sat on the floor, staring into space, paralysed by the waves of grief coming from their friend. 

“Madam President,” Tina tried to pull herself together as she spoke into the floo. “He’s awake.”

Moments later, President Piquery stepped through, looking tired, but regal as always. She gave the young Auror a raised brow at her sobbing.

“H-he asked for Credence, M’am” she pressed out. “They… knew each other.” 

Piquery gave a terse nod, and disappeared down the hallway towards Graves’ room. 

*

Graves barely noticed as his long-time friend entered the room. The President paused as she took in the sight of the formidable Percival Graves. His hair was longer, oddly clean shaved. He was slim, but by no means underweight. He was crying. He was staring into empty space, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. “Val,” she spoke softly. “Auror Goldstein informs me that you were acquainted with Credence Barebone?” 

“What happened?” Graves asked, voice barely above a whisper. “He promised- he promised that he wouldn’t-” a sob tore from his chest. Piquery waited patiently. Eventually, Graves spoke, “He promised he wouldn’t hurt my baby,” he whispered. “He promised-” he sobbed, arms wrapped around his middle. 

Piquery flicked her wand, summoning a nurse, “A calming draught, please.” 

The nurse had to cajole Graves to swallow it. He was an odd mix of frantic and too dazed to even move. She sat silently as it took effect. When Graves started looking around the room, eyes a little clearer, no long crying, she spoke again. “Grindelwald in in prison, awaiting transportation to Great Britain, where he will await trial. In his arrest two weeks ago, Credence Barebone was revealed to be the obscural that has wrecked havoc upon the city for the past four months. He was on my orders neutralised.” As Graves’ eye flickered, she did not stop. “You were found shortly after as Grindelwald gave up your location. Upon discovering your condition, it was in plenum decided between Congress, the Healers and the mind-healers that the pregnancy was to be terminated both for your well being and for the sake of MACUSA.” 

Graves was too emotionally numb to feel the hurt, greif and range he should at her worlds. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. On so many levels, he did not understand. He did not understand the logic, the betrayal. 

“It was made clear that your mental state would not be proficient for a pregnancy of this kind. We could not permit Grindelwalds offspring to gain access to the resources of one of the Twelve families. It was for the best.”

Graves shook his head and sank back down on the bed. “It wasn’t his,” he said, voice barely audible, exhausted, foggy and numb from the potions and spells.

Picquery paled at his words. “To whom did the child belong, Val?” 

Graves just looked at her, black eyes glossy and brimming with tears. “Credence,” he mouthed, voice not strong enough to carry forth his name. 

*

Healer Pomfrey sank down in the chair next to the bed, conflicted and broken hearted. The worst of Director Graves’ injuries had been healed, but there was still much left. Broken bones, torn muscles and a violated mind was only the beginning. She was one of the best trauma healers in the United States and she had never seen anything like this. 

Her expertise had put her in a difficult position. Morally, ethically. She wanted to refuse the edict of treatment from above, but she also knew that is his recovery was left to anyone else, his chanced of recovery were so much less. 

She had argued until she was blue in the face, but to no avail. Just wait, she had begged. Just wait until he woke and could decide for himself. A mind-healer had made the counter argument that the Director would be too traumatised to be able to face such a choice. As such, the board and the Congress had decided that the small spark of life growing in Director Graves should be snuffed.

No child of Grindlewald could live. 

In that she did not completely disagree, but Pomfrey had argued that there was no way to truly know if the child even was Grindlewalds. She had been countered with that Graves had no known lovers. It was a known fact that a wizards power had to be immense to conceive, but even more so to sire. That the likelihood of such a prominent figure as Director Graves should have a lover so powerful entirely in secret, was considered improbable. There were very few wizards known to have the magical reserve to manage such a feat. Grindlewald was one of them.

 

Even so, Pomfrey had argued that they should not assume Graves’ state of mind. While tortured, he was not starved, nor showed any sign of sexual abuse. Who was to say he could not decide for himself? Even if it was Grindlewalds child, it was definitely Director Graves’ child, a child gestating in his body. If anyone should decide, it should be him, and no one but him. It was possibly the heir of the Graves bloodline. A child of one of the founding families of the American modern magical community. The descendant of six MACUSA Presidents.

And Grindelwald. 

Auror Goldstein had helpfully added that Grindlewald himself had remained steadfast, formally testifying that the child was not his. It had not been enough, because naturally that was something he would say, in order to irrevocably tie his bloodline to the governing body of the American continents.

And as such… Pomfrey was given the choice of doing her job, or stepping away from her position and invalidating her credentials. 

A tear slipped down her cheek as she watched the sleeping man. She was ashamed. Do no harm, was the very first thing she had been taught. Abortions were a reality in her job. A reality that was naturally not pleasant, but most of the time relatively painless and for the better for the people involved. Their choices. She was a medical professional, not a judge, nor a no-maj priest. But this time… Do no harm. Even if Graves did not want the seedling, she had done harm by allowing the choice to be taken from him. 

And it turned out she was right. It had not been the child of the madman. It had been a child of love. The love of a now dead man. 

If she had just held on a few more days. Argued a few more days. 

Feeling nausea welling at her failure, she decided she needed to leave. To go as far from this place as she could. 

 

*

Credence had not been quite as downtrodden and broken as many seemed to believe. Graves had found out quickly that whatever part of his spirit was crushed, its quickly bounced back at a gentle touch. The young man was starved, yes, but he had the strength of youth and a life of hard labor. He was quiet, but he was smart. He had quietly explained to Graves that he couldn’t leave his little sister at the mercy of their cruel mother, and he had no way of providing for her. His only choice was to stick it out until she was old enough to marry, and ensure she married well, to a kind man that did not believe in magic, nor the fearmongering of their mother. 

It had not been love at first. Certainly Graves felt affection for him, but he was sure that it was not returned, not like he wanted it. Not then. Credence would pour his pain and frustration into Graves. After the first few minutes, Graves had almost been sure Credence had been lying about his virginity. The strength in his underfed frame was immense. If he had been a Christian, Graves might have believed the young man had been possessed. As black smoke rose from his skin as he viciously fucked him, he understood what he was, and that Credence was raw magic. 

He’d relished in the bruises and his aching muscles. He’d treasured the bite marks and the almost unbearable soreness of his behind.

Then Credence had learned to make love. 

And Graves was done for. 

Eyes had rolled back into his scull, thighs quivering as Credence’s hips ground into him. Long, thick length splitting him open like nothing else, filling him and making his world zero in on just the places they were touching. The firm hand at the back of his neck, cradling him close as he pushed deep into the core of his being. 

The first time he’d told him he loved him. 

When he’d take him from behind, pulling his hair, fucking him brutally, digging finger marks into his hips, only to litter kisses over his back. 

When Graves would struggle to allow the entirety of his young love into his body. 

When Credence had cupped his stomach reverently as they made love in the shower. When he’d kissed every inch of him , called him a miracle, gods gift, his love, his… Just his. 

 

*

Graves never spoke to the President again. 

He never spoke again. Not that anyone was allowed to hear. 

As soon as he was allowed out of the hospital, he disappeared without a trace, much to the anxiety of MACUSA. 

When his family manor was searched, the ancient Graves family tree was found in the vault. There it read Credence Barebone, deceased by execution. Unnamed boy, terminated. Percival Graves, deceased by suicide. 

As they continued to search for his body, they found him in his old nursery. The house elves sat quietly around their Master quiet mourning.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I regret everything.


End file.
